VENGEANCE.

Let it sink, let it sink On the pungent-petaled pink By those poppy puffs; Fairy-fashioned downiness, Light, weak moth in furry dress Of white fluffy stuffs.

Where the thin light slipping sweet Dimples prints of Fairy feet On the white-rose blooms, One dim blossom delicate Droops a face all pale with hate, Dead with sick perfumes.

And I read the riddle wove In this rose's course of love For the fickle pink:— Thou the rose's phantom art Stealing to the pink's false heart Vampire-like to drink.